


just my luck

by daybreaking



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Marriage Proposal, ot5 rv fluff!!, well here goes nothing, wenrene - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daybreaking/pseuds/daybreaking
Summary: Wendy wants to marry Irene. She's just so unlucky at everything that even proposing to her own girlfriend becomes a big complication for her.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 173





	just my luck

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff and crack. Wenrene. Implied Joygi. This is more ot5 tho. More like OT3-helping-Wannie-get-the-girl kinda thing. Kind of word vomit sometimes, but bear with me. This was written around Christmas eve so the timing's kinda off.
> 
> also available in aff!

“Wendy, are you okay?”

Wendy hums at the direction of the sound, somewhere next to her on the right. “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she mutters, voice betraying her intentions to keep it calm.

“You don’t look okay…”

She grits her teeth, clamps a hand over the other that is tirelessly tapping against the tablecloth to stop it with pursed lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous right now.” Her knee starts to bob at an anxious rhythm under the table, making her grimace again. She can’t help it. Her nerves are literally over the roof right now. She doesn’t even know why. This isn’t the first time she has done this.

A hand rests over her bobbing kneecap gently under the table while she’s too busy stopping herself from getting even more anxious, giving it a small squeeze.

“Please, it’s just my sister. She adores you, Wendy. You’re like a big sister to her.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about…”

Discordant chatter fills the hallway as the front door opens, shoes and boots stepping into the household with laughter and more conversation.

Wendy stiffens in her seat, fingers getting clammy over the dining table. She isn’t all that worried about her girlfriend’s younger sister – the girl might just be the same age as Joy and they’ve bonded several times before over similar music tastes.

She’s more worried about the company that the sister has brought—her girlfriend’s elder sister cousin and the elder sister cousin’s husband. Cousin-in-law, if you will.

Wendy has heard about her cousin. The girl was practically her girlfriend’s placeholder sister figure during their younger years. That, in itself, is quite nice to think about. That just means her girlfriend didn’t grow up all alone without the support system of an older sister.

But that’s also kind of really nerve-wracking, because that would mean that the cousin would naturally feel a stronger sense of protection towards her “younger sister”. Like how her own bigger sister has for her.

Wendy shouldn’t be too nervous. This is fine! She has met her girlfriend’s family before—her _parents_ , even, and they loved her. Surely a single cousin cannot be any scarier than the parents. Right?

Wendy hears her girlfriend’s younger sister chat brightly down the hallway, their footsteps and conversation getting louder and clearer. “They’re just in the dining room, I think. Wendy is really good at cooking and she said she wanted to do this for us…”

Her heart thumps hardly against her ribcage. She had to place a hand over the one that is already resting on her kneecap to feel a familiar touch.

She leans over to her girlfriend’s side. “What if they don’t like it?” she asks in a whisper, insecurity palpable in her voice. “W-What if… they’re actually vegan and don’t like meat? Or wine? Or, I don’t know, maybe they’re the beer type of people? What if?”

“Babe, I think I would have told you beforehand if any of my family were vegan.” The hand that was on her kneecap was turned around to capture hers on top of it, lacing their fingers together. “And please. Everybody loves steak and wine. Especially yours. This is probably the fanciest dinner you’ve ever made, and to think it isn’t for me…”

There was a slight but playful pout on rose-colored lips, and Wendy’s heart calms entirely at the side, momentarily. There was something about the way her girlfriend looked at that moment that beckoned for a quick kiss, so she did, leaning in even closer to capture the pout between her lips and give it a gentle peck.

She might have overdone it.

Because one moment they were just sharing a chaste kiss, and the next moment Wendy is jolting out of her seat at the sound of an intruder (or three) with slightly smudged lipstick on the side of her mouth.

“We haven’t even started the dinner yet and they’re already making out with each other.”

“I _told_ you, unnie! This is why I can’t stand being around them for too long!” the younger sister exclaims, shaking her head and walking into the dining room with a lax that is entirely the opposite of Wendy’s.

Wendy just stands there, heart nearly jumping out of her chest in so much anxiety and shock, and will forever think that she could have made a better first impression on her girlfriend’s “elder sister” for the rest of the years to come.

-

“Well, that dinner definitely took a toll on me,” Wendy muses out loud with a shudder, clinking of utensils resonating in the kitchen as her girlfriend busies herself with the dishes. “Do you think I did well? And answer this in the perspective of an elder sister. Like, if I had been your sister's boyfriend or something, meeting you for the first time, do you think…”

“I think I would have somersaulted her ass.” Irene passes a wet plate to her. She receives it with a towel and starts drying it off.

“Why?” Wendy nearly laughs off as she sets down the plate in the rack and receives another one.

“Because I’d fall in love with the boyfriend too.” Irene grins. “Not that I’d ever be interested in men, but you know. You did well, sweetheart. Fret not.” She turns off the tap and reaches for the towel in Wendy’s hands after she’s done drying the last plate. “Boa unnie acts tough but she’s actually a big loser in the long run.”

“She is scary.” Wendy pouts, leaning her hip against the marble counter and resting her palms against the edges.

“Is she?” An amused laugh tickles her ears as hands find her waist to pull her close. “Probably runs in the family. I remember when you used to be scared of me, too.”

Wendy can’t help but release another sigh when she feels herself mesh into the other’s hold easily, the warmth very much appreciated and loved after a long, tiring day. She brings her arms around the other’s frame to reciprocate, perching her chin on top of a bony shoulder.

“You can’t blame me. You were like, super pretty and super smart, not to mention super intimidating,” Wendy responds pensively.

“Were? Past tense?” There seems to be a miscommunication. “So you don’t think I’m super pretty or super smart now?”

“What—no! Of course I think you’re still super pretty and super smart. What I’m trying to say is that you were super pretti _er_ back then, and super… smarter… because you were a new face. And intimidatinger! Wait, what am I saying?” Wendy is rambling at this point, her whole body tensed up at the prospect that she might have upset the other. “I mean… you know what I mean… I still think you’re gorgeous and smart and—”

There is a gleeful giggle in her ears that cuts off her rambling, a nose gingerly poking against the side of her neck to snuggle lightly, and it makes Wendy’s stomach flip and her cheeks flush a deep shade of red.

“Relax, babe.” Soft hands have now started rubbing soothing circles against her back—an action much appreciated by Wendy herself. “I think my cousin really got you good tonight. You don’t even know how to act in front of your own girlfriend anymore.”

Wendy pouts as she hugs the other tighter, burying her nose into the girl’s own shirt to take a whiff of her favorite scent. Lavender and cream. The scents that never failed to calm her down even in the most stressful days. Even wearing the girl’s clothes gave her a sense of comfort not even her own clothes did. It reminded Wendy of her girlfriend, all of her.

“Will you spend the night?”

Wendy twists her head so that her ear is resting against the shoulder and she is looking at her love, who looks at her right back with a smile. So beautiful. So warm and loving.

“Will your cousin be fine if I do?” she asks worriedly, burrows furrowed to a light crease. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Jeez, Wendy, you’re such a baby.” The tease is lighthearted in nature and Wendy only pouts at it to further prove the point—she is a baby. Especially when she is tired. “We’re all grown women in this house. And well, a man, since my in-law’s here too, but honestly… I don’t think anyone gives a damn if you spend the night. We can handle ourselves just fine.”

“I give a damn. I’m trying to make a good impression on your family.”

“They already _adore_ you, Wannie.” Wendy smiles when she is squeezed against the other’s side with an arm, snuggling up to her neck comfortably. “You shouldn’t worry? At this point, I’m honestly just wondering when they’ll kick me out so I can move in with you.”

Wendy laughs, amused despite her flushed cheeks. Moving in with her girlfriend sounds like a really nice idea. She has woken up to the view of the other still sleeping with the morning light caressing her face gently, and it is the most beautiful sight on Earth in her eyes. She wouldn’t mind waking up to that every day. It would be amazing.

“We can move in together after we settle out the logistics and how we’re going to split rent,” she jokes back with a grin. “And who’s driving who on different days and schedules.”

“And who’s going to wash the dishes and take out the trash.”

“And who’s gonna do the laundry.”

“Um, nope! That is _my_ area, lady. You’re not touching my laundry items and clothes. You’re gonna wash the dishes.”

“Hey, that’s unfair!”

“I think we aren’t ready to move in together yet, don’t you think?”

Wendy laughs, hearty and full, before pressing a chaste kiss against the other’s cheek.

“Not sure about that. How about we test it by sleeping together for a night?” She grins cheekily when she pulls back.

“I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

With hands clasped together and a small peck between grinning lips, Wendy allows herself to get dragged into a room she knows all too well by now. Purple walls, white sheets, and baby pictures in frames by the desk. A picture of the both of them beside the clock on the nightstand. It is her home away from home.

But then again, home is standing in purple pajamas and an oversized white shirt across the room, hand extended towards her with a knee on the bed. Home has brunette hair and round-rimmed glasses perched on top of a button nose. Home is wherever her heart is.

Wendy smiles, fate decided, and retires with weary limbs to the warm embrace of her lover.

-

Irene is like a beautifully painted mural.

Wendy watches with half-lidded eyes as the sun kisses white sheets, white shirt, and white skin. Irene is snoring lightly on top of her, arm flung over her torso tucked under her flank in a teddy-bear grip. It makes her heart swell even in her stupor.

Between the both of them, Irene has always been the lighter sleeper. Even the slightest sounds and movements woke her up. But whenever they’re together, the woman sleeps like a baby—it’s almost impossible to pry her away from Wendy when she’s already in deep sleep.

So more often than not, Wendy always wakes up first whenever they do.

It’s fine though. Wendy likes watching Irene sleep… as creepy and stalkerish as that sounds. She can though, right? Irene is her girlfriend.

Her beautiful, beautiful girlfriend.

Her beautiful girlfriend, with perfect brown hair that cascades down her shoulders in gorgeous waves, her fully arched eyebrows courtesy of disciplined pampering, her long eyelashes that rest over soft eyelids. Her button nose pokes out slightly between Wendy’s shirt and the blanket, bridge accentuated and chiseled like fine marble. They come to a stop where the lips meet—delicate roses of pink slightly parted and shaped almost like a pout. Wendy wants to kiss her.

But she settles, with a kiss to an unsuspecting forehead and her fingers gently caressing warm cheek.

Wendy falls in love several times a day. From the moment she wakes up to the second she sleeps.

She falls in love every time Irene looks at her, and falls in love even when she does not. She falls in love when Irene smiles, and even when she frowns; falls in love when Irene kisses her, and even when is not.

It has been six years since Wendy found the courage to ask her out during their sophomore year at university. It has been six blissful years since Irene kissed her and told her yes.

So in that moment, tangled in each other’s bodies and wrapped in cozy blankets over the cold December air, Wendy’s heart swells with something indecipherable. Something she has never felt before. An epiphany. A sudden revival.

She wants to marry Irene.

She wants to spend the rest of her days waking up to this view—a soundly sleeping Irene next to her, head on her chest. She wants to spend the rest of her months carrying groceries in fragile paper bags with Irene insisting they hold hands despite the struggle. She wants to spend the rest of her years holding Irene while she sleeps, and singing for her whenever she asks. She wants to spend a lifetime with Irene, irrevocably, permanently.

Irene stirs a bit in her sleep, hugs Wendy’s body tighter against her own, and Wendy decides.

Yes, she _is_ going to marry Irene.

-

“Are you thinking, like, a bold 20-carat diamond ring?”

Wendy’s brows furrow over the glass panel of the jewelry display, fluorescent lights blaringly bright and casting uneven shimmers against her face from the several facets of gemstones below her.

They have it all—diamonds of different cuts, clarities, and colors. Rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. All authentic. She had known this place from her parents. They were more than eager to tell her the name of the place where they had gotten their own wedding rings made.

She still vividly remembers the excited squeal her mother made over the phone when she told them. She had to pull the device back from her ear or she would suffer from blasted eardrums.

Her father just laughed amiably, deep voice kind of sounding wet on the line, “I was wondering when you would, to be honest.”

Wendy has always known her parents were sort of pretentiously partial to anything expensive. They could afford it, of course. But it still made her purse her lips into a thin line when she stopped in front of Shilla Hotel and saw the blaring sign reading _Graff_ in front of her.

Wendy blinks a few times, snapping herself out of the reverie when she is presented with a thick tri-fold brochure over the kiosk. Printed on it is a list of the diamond cuts and their corresponding sizes on a picture of a human hand.

“20 carats?” Wendy fixes her eyes on the line that indicates the size of it. They widen comically, a gulp caught in the middle of her throat. Yeah, Irene wouldn’t want to wear _that_.

“Yes! You know people these days want to be like Jennifer Lopez… or Kim Kardashian when talking about engagement rings.”

Wendy chuckles wryly, eyeing the man behind the counter. “Yeah, um… we don’t,” she says as politely as she can and watches as the man’s face falters a bit. The wide grin is still on his face though, as weird as that looks.

“Well then, I guess we all have different preferences, right?” The man laughs obnoxiously—too obnoxiously with his round face, nearly bald head, and pink cheeks. They’re not supposed to do that in jewelry shops, right? Wendy thought they were supposed to be as quiet as they can.

Wendy laughs along anyways, slowly but unsurely, her laugh probably sounding like a call of help to anyone who heard her. Luckily, the awkward moment is cut short when the click-clack of running boot heels resonate suddenly in the luxurious shop.

Seulgi comes into view, scarf bouncing around her neck in sync with the messy bun at the top of her head as she runs in haste.

She stops, right next to Wendy, hunched over herself with her palms pressed against her knees while she catches her breath. She looks like she had just gotten off work and ran to the store right after, judging by the looks of it. Wendy sort of feels guilty for that; she did ring her best friend up on such a short notice and told her they were going ring shopping at once.

The man over the counter looks at Seulgi dubiously, his smile turning wry and cautious now, before Wendy gives him a reassuring smile of her own.

“Sorry, she’s with me,” she quickly tells the man to calm him down before looking at her still panting best friend. “Are you okay, Seul?” she asks softly, concerned.

“Am I… Am I okay?” Seulgi asks rhetorically in between short breaths, wiping away the beads of sweat away from her forehead. “You ring me up, didn’t even ask me, ‘Hey, Seulgi, are you free today?’ or ‘Hey, Seulgi, how are you?’. You ring me up and tell me, ‘Seulgi, help me look for diamond rings’ and hang up, and you think—you think—” The woman coughs loudly into a curled fist, before straightening herself back up. “You _think_ I’m _okay_?”

“I—I… well,” Wendy stammers, tries to find any plausible excuse for the short notice and the hassle she had put Seulgi through but couldn’t come up with anything. She swallows the lump in her dry throat. “You’re… not… okay?” she slowly drawls out with an appeasing smile at the other, knowing full well that she has nothing else to say to that now.

After a good two minutes of Seulgi just scolding Wendy and ranting to her about how she had to catch the next bus immediately after getting out of work – and that the buses were all full and she couldn’t catch a cab so she had to run for streets until she found a vacant bus – the taller brunette calms down, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

When she opens them back again, all the stress has faded out from her body, and she is once again back to being the best friend Wendy needed the most.

“Okay, so what kind of ring are we talking about here?” Seulgi chirps brightly as she takes the glossy piece into her own hands and scans through it with her eyes. “I can think of many things, but I’m afraid I might self-project. I’ve always wanted Joy to give me one of these.” She points to a round-cut diamond with a giddy smile.

Wendy looks at it briefly and shrugs. “Anything that would fit Irene. I was thinking something… not so brazen. She wouldn’t want to wear something that’s kind of a big slap to anyone who’s looking.”

“Mhm. Very Irene, yes.”

“So… an emerald cut?”

“You said something not so brazen.”

“Yeah, but a round brilliant is too common. I wanted the marquise but I figured it would look like a spade if I got a bigger version of it. Like, 10 carats or something.”

“10 carats?” Seulgi gasps, suddenly prying her eyes away from the sheet to look at Wendy incredulously. “Wendy, that’s awfully too big and too…” she lowers her voice a little bit, “expensive for a ring, don’t you think?”

Wendy blinks blankly, looking back at Seulgi’s untrusting eyes.

“Well, it’s an engagement ring, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t splurge on it.”

And in that moment, Wendy feared the security would ring the alarms because of the sudden shriek that escapes Seulgi’s lips.

She did tell Seulgi what kind of ring they were getting, right? She didn’t leave out any information about engagement rings, right?

“YOU ARE GOING TO PROPOSE?”

Seulgi has forgone the glossy brochure in her hands now, and has wrapped her arms around Wendy in a tight embrace. Bear hug-like, if you will. She squeals delightfully, even more delightful than Wendy’s mom, and proceeds to baby-talk the other when she has calmed down from her initial high.

“Oh, my Seungwan is going to propose! She is actually going to propose. Aren’t you a wittle grown up now, wittle Seungwannie—”

“Seulgi, the ring.”

“Oh right! The ring!”

They settled for the 7.5-carat cushion cut ring anyways, diamond stone sitting snugly over a silver band bespeckled with tinier gemstones around it. Seulgi had swooned even more than Wendy when the black velvet box was handed to her with its own paper bag. Wendy just felt sort of befuddled – like she should have asked Irene first before she went out and gotten her an engagement ring.

“You’re joking, right?” Seulgi asks her once they push past the glass doors of the Graff store. “That would ruin the entire purpose of a proposal, dumbass!”

“I know, I know… but I feel like this is something we should have done together. Decided together, or something.” Wendy rubs a free hand over her shoulder worriedly. “I feel… incomplete.”

“You’re lovesick. There is no other explanation for it.” Seulgi teases with a grin. “Leave it to Son Seungwan to think that she should consult her soon-to-be fiancée about what engagement ring she wants. It’s not the ring that she wants, Wannie.” Seulgi wraps an arm around her sulking best friend as she leads them to the Italian restaurant she had told Wendy earlier about wanting to try.

“Yeah?” Wendy lets out a worried sigh as they approach the doors.

“Yeah.” Seulgi just smiles, warmly and devoid of any mischievous motive, and squeezes her arm in comfort. “It’s you she wants. The implication behind a proposal. _Marriage_ , Wannie, not the ring. Don’t forget that.”

And so Wendy doesn’t. She leaves the thought be to some other time, enjoys a peaceful and chatty dinner with her best friend over some dish they probably butchered the pronunciation of, and safely tucks the silver band of diamond where no one else but she and Seulgi can find it.

-

When Wendy thought of proposing to Irene, she had only thought about the basics.

One, she would go out and tell Irene (as normally as she could) that she needed to run some errands.

Two, she would drift off to the Shilla Hotel as fast as she could to look for a ring.

Three, she would buy the ring and take it home.

Four, she never really thought of what would happen after that. The meticulous logistics of the proposal... nope, she had never thought about it. She thought maybe after buying the ring then she can figure something out—like a light bulb going off after the ripping of the cheque.

Seulgi suggested that it happen over a romantic candlelight dinner by the beach at Jeju (“You’re self-projecting,” Wendy would singsong, and Seulgi would just pout. “I can’t help it, okay!”) but Wendy had thought about their clashing schedules recently—how Irene seems to be working more and more since it’s almost the end of the year.

She had thought about something grandiose. Maybe booking the next plane ticket to France and proposing over dinner in some fancy restaurant overlooking the Eiffel tower?

No, Irene wouldn’t want that. Wendy would be crazy to even think of that! She’s sure Irene would undoubtedly chide her when she finds out about the money the other had spent on the engagement ring, much more an impromptu trip to France.

Besides, this is not a honeymoon. This is still a proposal!

So no, Wendy is standing dumbfounded in her own house, watching over the skyline of Seoul from her twenty-first floor condominium with a Merlot in hand. Silent. Calculating. Worried for the most part. She hasn’t figured anything out yet.

“The way you’re looking out that window is brewing some really unpleasant thoughts in me, Wannie.” Irene chuckles somewhere distantly behind her, the clinking of utensils and plates resonating in the space as their dishes take shelter in the sink. “Get away from there. You’re drinking too.”

“It’s just wine, babe.” Wendy rolls her eyes in good nature as she turns away from the skyline. “It can hardly deter me.”

“ _Deters_ you enough to start talking like a pompous aristocrat.” Irene laughs charmingly as she saunters over to where Wendy stands, white cocktail dress hugging her proportions beautifully and making Wendy’s cheeks flush redder than they already are.

“Does not.” Wendy huffs out with another roll of her eyes. “Though, I am an aristocrat… essentially.” She grins cheekily at the other who has now placed herself in front of her. “Why do you think I can afford all this?”

“See? Pompous.” Irene rolls her eyes this time, but with a small smile on her face. “Remind me that we should work on that. Can’t have you thinking you own the world after having a few drinks here and there.”

“I don’t need the world.” Wendy downs the remaining contents of her glass before setting it down on the nearest surface.

She reaches out, arms snaking around Irene’s waist where the hourglass slopes meet, and pulls the other close. “I already have you,” she whispers lowly, as genuine as she could, despite her fluttering half-lidded gaze courtesy of the quintuple glasses of wine she has had that night.

Irene only smiles, reaching up to clasp her fingers behind Wendy’s neck and settle there to play with the baby hairs on her nape. Wendy sighs happily at the touch, leaning in to the embrace.

“You know, you get awfully cheesy when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, ma’am.”

“Tipsy.”

“Not tipsy either! I promise I’m not as lightweight as you think I am. You should see yourself.”

Irene laughs in disbelief now. “Oh, so now we’re talking about me? I thought we were talking about you.”

“We can talk about as many things as we want.” Wendy is back to smiling dopily now. “We have all the time in the world, my love.”

“Mhm. I’m sure we do.” Irene smiles at her affectionately, unlocking her fingers from the clasp to cup a hand over Wendy’s warm cheek. “Though it sounds like an awfully long time, don’t you think?”

Wendy leans in to Irene’s hand, snuggling her cheek against the palm with furrowed brows.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want that?”

“Do you?” Irene cocks her head.

“I do.”

Wendy ignores how it suddenly takes her mind to the altar when she says the two words. Semantics and contextual wordplay have never been for the alcohol-ridden mind, much more Wendy’s, so she swoops her arms down Irene’s back in one swift movement, settling just above her sacrum, and presses her flush against her body to keep her from thinking of a ring that sits on a velvet box somewhere hidden inside her house.

Irene yelps girlishly at the action and giggles against Wendy’s torso. “Hey there, tiger. Easy,” she teases with a grin.

“Bold of you to assume I answer to that. I’m not a tiger.” Wendy reaches up to sweep Irene’s hair to one side, exposing her neck.

“It’s less sultry if I call you a hamster during this pivotal time.”

“Sultry?” Wendy gasps with a raised brow and a growing smirk. “Miss Bae, were you planning on _seducing_ me tonight?” she asks, acting affronted.

“No,” Irene answers back, equally as playful as she starts to run her hands all over Wendy’s back. The action is brewing all sorts of hot mess inside the younger girl, her senses tingling with every touch that rubs against her skin especially with Irene’s body pressed tightly against her own. 

Irene is now smiling coyly at her, lopsided and attractive. “But you invited me for dinner and even had some wine to drink liberally. I assumed the night would end up in sex. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Wendy dramatically closes her eyes and inhales sharply, opening them not long after. “Ugh, always the effortless seductress. Beats me how you can do that.”

She lets go of Irene then, spinning her around and leading her to the room with a gentle pat against her buttocks.

“Now go, before I change my mind about you,” she prompts playfully and Irene skips down the hall to the designated bedroom in giggles.

“You better not keep a woman waiting!” Irene singsongs from inside her room. Wendy shakes her head amusedly to herself.

This is the life she wants for herself. Just being with Irene, being her most comfortable self. No walls, no facades, no people to please. No one but Irene.

She shakes it off, sobers away the remaining drops of alcohol in her system as she strides towards her bedroom where – if she’s not mistaken – her lover would be waiting, bare stript. For her.

For her. Only for her. Irene is the only one for her.

-

Three weeks had passed since Wendy bought the engagement ring, and it still sits, conspicuously, in its big black velvet box that looks too fancy for its own good. Wendy stares at it on the desk one morning, trying to figure out how on Earth she is supposed to go about this proposal that involves tears and memories-not-forgotten and love.

Oh, _love_.

Love is the most important, because Irene needs to feel her genuine love enough to say yes.

She stares at the multifaceted diamond in the box, Seulgi’s words repeating over and over in her head. _“It’s not the ring she wants, Wannie.” — “It’s you._ Marriage _.”_

Seulgi is right. Wendy doesn’t need to try in order to propose to Irene. If Irene really wanted it, she’d say yes to Wendy even if the girl proposed to her in her sleep. What is she fussing so much over? Irene loved her, and if she loved her enough, she would say yes to whatever proposal, right?

She’d accept Wendy with open arms, right?

But Wendy wants to make it special. She wants to make it something Irene will forever remember. She wants—

“Sweetheart? Where are you—are you sulking again?”

Wendy’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest when she hears the voice enter the room, swift fingers grabbing the velvet box as she turns and hiding it behind her in one quick movement, as casually as she could.

Her heart is beating erratically against her ribcage, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. She must have looked like a reindeer caught in the headlights right then, but her unattractive look is the least of her concerns right now.

Irene is staring at her from the open door, brows furrowed and one of them raised. She blinks a couple of times, looking curiously over the desk Wendy had just been looming over earlier.

“What are you… what are you doing here?” Wendy tries to ask normally, her voice betraying her nerves and cracking a little bit on the edges. She clears her throat to get it back into shape.

“Am I not supposed to be here?” Irene chuckles with another dubious glance at the desk behind her.

“No! I mean, no… it’s just, you could’ve rang me up beforehand. You know how jumpy I get sometimes.” Wendy laughs nervously, tightening her shaking grip on the box.

“Uh-huh.” Irene doesn’t seem to buy it. She walks further into the room in slow strides. “What you got there?” She stops by the side of Wendy’s king-sized bed, cocking her chin ineffectually to the desk behind the girl.

“W-What?” Wendy pivots her body slightly so that she’s perpendicular to Irene. Less chances of the box to be seen. More chances of seeming sketchy. _Crap_.

“Nothing, I was just…” _Come on, Wendy,_ think. “Looking at…”

Irene is looking even more suspicious now. _Shit_.

“My post-it notes,” she supplements lamely in a rush, cheeks red.

“Your post-it notes,” Irene deadpans with crossed arms. Oh no. Red flag.

“Mhm!” Wendy smiles as goodly as she can, lips pursed tight. “Uh, need reminders sometimes, you know? With how jumbled work can get most of the time. Heh.”

Irene is still looking at her in suspicion, brows furrowed to a crease now as she frowns. Wendy knows something is probably stirring in her mind as the seconds pass, and Wendy knows it is _not_ pleasant.

Eventually Irene sighs after a long minute of them just staring at each other—more Irene than the other. Wendy was just awkwardly shifting on her feet while trying to avoid a long gaze with the other. She is really not handling this well.

Irene huffs out, runs a hand through her hair, and makes her way towards the open door.

“You know I can sense when you’re hiding something, Wendy,” she says seriously as she nears the doorframe. “We’ve been together long enough for me to know.”

Wendy watches as Irene lingers by the open door, her orientation allowing not much but the side of her face to be seen from where Wendy stood on the other side. However, she noticed a little quivering frown there, hanging on the side of Irene’s lips, and her heart breaks at the sight.

No, this is not how she had planned things to be. She was only trying to save the surprise for later!

“I—”

“Just—” Irene whips around swiftly to look at her straight in the eyes, her gaze intense and a little bit fragile beneath her round glasses. Wendy knows this look. She has seen it a couple of times during her more reckless days in university; back when she had wrongfully done some pretty messed up stuff during their relationship.

Irene bites her lip, gnawing on the flesh probably to stop it from trembling. Wendy is _so_ close to going down on one knee right there and then to get it over with. It is all just a miscommunication. She was just thinking of how to _propose_ , dammit!

Irene sighs her out of her doubts though, her voice firm but pleading.

“Just please… don’t make a fool out of me, Wendy. Please.”

Wendy doesn’t know why she doesn’t find it in herself to apologize right then, to clear things up—just throw the ring box out into the open. The words seem to get caught up in her throat, mouth agape when Irene disappears into the living room and exits the unit entirely with a solitary beep of her home security system.

Shit. _Shit, shit, shit_.

Wendy pulls the velvet box from behind her and stares at it in disdain. Of course, _of course_ it had to be her who ruins everything again. She just ruined her own chance at a proposal anytime soon. Stupid. Absolutely stupid.

She knows it will take some time for Irene to cool herself down after the sudden walkout. Probably a night’s rest or six hours if she’s feeling generous.

Even after then they’d still have to talk things through, patch misunderstandings up, and Irene is _notorious_ for skirting around her true feelings which makes Wendy frustrated. When Wendy gets frustrated, it comes off as a flippant dismissal of Irene’s feelings, and in turn the woman gets even more upset with her. It’s a damn cycle.

Wendy curses, scowling at the black box in her hands. Maybe if she hadn’t been such a perfectionist, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if the box wasn’t so damn big, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if she had listened to herself and consulted Irene beforehand, this whole ordeal wouldn’t have been so excruciatingly indecisive!

She curses, chucks the expensive box away somewhere she frankly doesn’t care about now, and grabs her car keys from her desk.

She needs to let some steam off her own before she goes around and creates an even bigger mess than she already has.

-

“So you’re saying you wanted to propose to Irene unnie, was totally not cool about it, and she assumed that you were cheating on her?”

Wendy nods, presses pursed lips on the rim of her vanilla milkshake and sips. “That’s about it.”

“Again?”

She blinks, brows furrowing in slow seconds as the accusatory implication starts to hit, and pulls back from her drink with a frown on her face.

“Joy, I thought we were already over that,” she says, clearly unhappy of the sudden turn of events. “That was six years ago and I was dumb. I’ve never done it again since then. I’m grown now.”

“ _Ever_?” Joy glares at her from across the diner booth, her own plate of fish and chips remaining untouched ever since Wendy started talking when they got their orders.

“Ever.” Wendy glares back at her with a scowl. “Now can you please cut it out? I need my best friend, not the silly, bitter teenager Sooyoung. I need help.”

The diner’s doors chime with an entrance, beige trench coat and dark grey knitted gloves dusting off barely visible lint on the fabric as Yeri emerges into view. She spots them nearly in an instant, waves over at Wendy happily before making her way over to them.

“Unnies, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Yeri exclaims with glee, taking off her gloves and nudging Joy’s side with her pelvis to scoot over. Joy only grumbles incoherently, but slides her plate and drink over to her side as she allows for the youngest to slip in.

Wendy smiles at the younger girl then while she settles herself down, uncertain when the last time they saw each other had been. Yeri’s career often pulled her out of town and out of the country, being a singer was robbing Yeri more and more of quality time.

Wendy beckons a waitress over to take the newcomer’s order, the smile never leaving her face as she waits for Yeri to finally be comfortable enough to talk.

Yeri chirps, right after taking the first bite of her cheeseburger. “So! What’s the occasion? Who’s getting married?”

Both Joy and Wendy suddenly look at the youngest girl with surprised eyes in a whip, Yeri looking back at them alternately while chewing on her burger.

“Um… what’s going on?” she asks slowly, wary of the sudden reaction she got.

Joy laughs then, rolling her eyes.

“Wendy unnie here _wants_ to get married, but she just messed everything up before she can even propose.”

“Hey!” Wendy hurls a balled up tissue napkin at Joy who dodges it with a guffaw.

“That’s a bit… concerning, unnie,” Yeri sympathizes with a small smile. “Is it Irene unnie?”

Wendy’s face twists. “What—of course it’s Irene! Who else would it be?!” she nearly yells in frustration.

“See? I told you we can never be certain.” Joy just keeps on laughing, making a show of shrugging pompously at her.

“Oh, shut up, Joy!”

Yeri sighs. “Girls, now is not the time to act like kids in a diner. This is not McDonald’s with a play place.”

Joy snorts. “’Course it is. Look, there’s the clown.” She points at Wendy, who is now scowling so hard her nostrils have flared up and she is visibly turning red all over.

Before Wendy can even retaliate, Yeri exhales sharply, pivots her body so that she is looking at the both of them with an intense glare. She places her hands on her hips, frighteningly serious.

“If the both of you don’t act your own age right now, I am leaving this diner to go and continue my work somewhere else,” the youngest spits threateningly, silencing the bickering two effectively in just seconds. “I frankly have no time for this but I'm only here because Wendy unnie said she needed me. Now go and make peace with each other. Quick.”

No one would ever want to get on Yeri’s bad side. Time and maturity has made the girl scary angry over the years.

And so Wendy and Joy do as Yeri instructs, begrudgingly shaking hands with each other with pouty frowns on their faces. That’s all it takes for the dynamic to change though—the next thing they know, they are enjoying each other’s jovial company again, catching up and making conversation before getting to the real deal.

The real reason for this setup.

Yeri moves away their finished plates to the side and clasps her fingers together on top of the table, looking at Wendy seriously across.

Wendy shifts then, feeling a bit uncomfortable under such an intense, calculating gaze.

“You, unnie, are going to fix things,” Yeri says flatly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It is.

“That’s… exactly why I’m asking you guys to be here?” Wendy raises an eyebrow. “To help me fix things?”

“God, six years together, you’re about to propose, and you still consult your friends on how to fix things with your girlfriend?” Yeri throws her hands up in the air in frustration, shaking her head. “Wendy, this is not healthy!”

Joy just watches silently on the side, cheek rested on a palm.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up again, you guys,” Wendy says quietly, insecurity palpable in her small voice as she fiddles with the sleeves of her coat under the table. “I’ve already done enough. She’s the most important person to me.”

“Then let her know?” Yeri says, looking at Wendy like she is dumb for not even getting the whole point. “What are you still sitting here for? We’re not the ones you owe an apology to, not the ones you’re planning to propose to. We’re just here for you to distract yourself from the real problem. Irene unnie could be out there getting worse thoughts about your whereabouts right now.”

Wendy sighs, and Joy just nods along to whatever the youngest girl is saying.

“You’ve spent too much time worrying over the perfect proposal that you sort of forget the whole point of even proposing,” Yeri continues, a wistful smile on her face as she reaches over the table to ask for Wendy’s hand in her own. “She’s not gonna say no, you know.” Yeri smiles even wider when the other finally meets her eyes.

“How are you even so sure?”

This time, Yeri and Joy both look at her like she’s frankly the dumbest person in the entire world. Seulgi would have looked at her the same way if she were there.

Joy sighs, placing her palm over Yeri and Wendy’s interlocked fingers and looking at the eldest unreadably.

“Sometimes, Wendy unnie,” she starts, genuinely, Wendy’s own eyes starting to prickle with something warm because of the younger’s tone of voice.

“… your daftness truly amazes me.”

After several more minutes of Wendy and Joy fighting each other and Yeri having to apologize to the surrounding tables for the ruckus, Yeri reaches over to pinch Joy’s arm and kick Wendy’s shin under the booth table.

She drags the both of them out of the diner by the ear, Wendy and Joy sputtering out hasty apologies in the middle of yelps in pain. Several passersby and people in the diner looked at them worriedly on their way out, and Yeri just flashes them a bright smile implying that they mind their own business.

Wendy decides then, after getting another lecture from Yeri about how she should learn to deal with her problems on her own (but doesn’t necessarily mean she couldn’t ask for help anymore), that she is going to fix things with Irene tonight. Even if there is a 75-percent chance that the girl would kick her once she shows up in front of her doorstep.

She hugs the younger girls goodbye, Joy saying something about “no hard feelings” and “I was just messing with you tonight, unnie. I hope it goes well” during their hug.

“You guys, if ever things go well tonight…” Wendy says as she starts to walk to her car parked by the curb. “I owe you one.” She smiles, bright and thankful. “We can plan my perfect proposal another day, with Seulgi as the mediator just in case things go awry again like it did tonight.”

Yeri’s yell of, “There is no such thing as a perfect proposal, unnie!” falls into deaf ears as Wendy laughs heartily in the driver’s seat, pulling away from the curb with a wave outside the window to the girls before speeding off to her home address.

She is going to fix things tonight. She just needs a little bit of prep to do it.

-

The first thing Wendy notices when she gets home—no, she _realizes_ when she gets home, is that she had just lost her engagement ring.

Seriously.

She stands there, on the same spot she had stood in front of Irene hours ago, and stares at a pristine-made bedroom with no sight of the black box she had thrown earlier.

She hadn’t thrown it outside the window, right? No, she isn’t dumb enough to do that.

She pokes her head out of the window just in case.

As if she can see a relatively small box down the busy streets of Seoul from twenty-one levels high.

So now Wendy is in an even bigger sitch than she already was. She has an upset girlfriend to appease, to explain herself without blurting out that she was actually about to propose, but if she _did_ blurt it out… she had lost the engagement ring too.

She searched under her bed, even swam into the dusty expanse coughing and holding her breath just to make sure she has examined the entire place. Nope, still no sign of the ring box. She looked at every nook and cranny of her house—crevices between desks, inside the cabinets, under the couch. Nothing.

Wendy’s heart starts to beat painfully against her chest in growing anxiety. She didn’t really _lose_ her engagement ring, did she? She’s sure she just tossed it somewhere around her house in frustration earlier.

She should really stop impulsively throwing things when she’s angry. That ring is supposed to be for Irene! It cost a _fortune_ to get that—some half-million dollars that Wendy had signed off the cheque while holding her breath. She spent hours arguing with Seulgi over the perfect one that would fit Irene. She spent weeks trying to perfect her proposal.

And it’s all for nothing because there is _no ring_.

Just when she’s about to break down in so much overwhelming frustration with herself, sitting on the edge of her bed with her phone unlocked to call any of her friends just in case she needs actual human support, she finds it, haphazardly tucked behind the printer perched on her desk.

Well, Wendy never really thought about checking the printer. For some reason, when looking for a missing engagement ring box, checking the printer seemed like an option that shouldn’t even be considered.

Wendy jumps though, in so much delight and glee, and hops onto her feet immediately when she sees it.

She takes it in her hands, _cradles_ it even, and wonders why on Earth she even cursed the thing before when having it in her hands now expels an overwhelming amount of relief throughout her.

Wendy sighs, heavily, feeling her entire body relax with the feel of familiar velvet on her fingers.

Easy peasy. Now that’s one less problem to worry about. 

She can safely tuck this ring box somewhere safe again, preserve the ring inside of it, and think about how she can make it up to Irene as soon as possible so she can start worrying about her proposal plan again.

She flips the box open though, just to make sure the ring is still safe inside. She had thrown it recklessly earlier and if anything had happened to it—

Wait, where’s the ring?

“What the—” Wendy’s recent tension and anxiety comes back a thousandfold at the empty black cushion that is staring back at her. Her fingers get clammy, her heart racing at a growing speed. She hasn’t been robbed, has she?

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Wendy chucks the ring box away again in haste (she should really stop doing that, she grimaces to herself) and grabs her phone and car keys from the desk swiftly. She doesn’t know what to do at this point. The ring is missing; she might have been robbed. That means her home security system is faulty and she doesn’t feel safe anymore. Her engagement ring is _missing_.

She puts Seulgi on speed dial as she grabs a coat, pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she tries to shimmy her coat in while walking to the front door at the same time.

“Wannie, what—” Seulgi’s confused voice comes into the line.

“Seul, the ring is gone!”

“The ring is gone, as in like… is that a connotation that you already proposed?” Seulgi’s voice has taken a turn for the suggestive. “‘Cause that would be understandable that the ring is gone, technically, from its box—”

“Seul, the ring is _missing_! I can’t find it anywhere! It’s gone!”

“Of course, you wouldn’t. I mean—wait… _what_?!”

“My engagement ring is missing!” Wendy doesn’t know how many times she has repeated this now. She and Seulgi are just screaming over each other on the line. “Seulgi, I don’t know what to do. I took my coat and my keys and I—I… I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. I’m so!” Wendy nearly screams but settles for a frustrated groan with a tug to her hair strands. “What am I supposed to give to Irene? What am I supposed to _say_ to her?”

“Okay, okay.” Seulgi tries at consolation but nothing seems to calm Wendy know. She has started to bite her nails while pacing in front of her door. “Calm down, Wendy. We’ll work this out. Chances are, the security cameras around your place caught it. Whoever took the ring will be there.”

Well, that sort of calmed her down a bit, actually.

“Yes… you’re right, you’re right…” she says slowly, taking deep breaths to calm herself down now. “I’ll… I’ll go downstairs and look for the, um, manager or something.”

“Yes. Call me if anything else comes up. Or do you need me to be here while you do that?”

“No, no. It’s fine. Thanks, Seulgi. I’ll call you back later.”

“Okay, Wannie. Take care. Love you.”

“Love you too, Seul.”

The line goes silent when the call is dropped, and Wendy heaves out a sigh. She is feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. All that anxiety and panic has somehow rushed a good amount of blood to her brain. It’s dizzying.

She slips her phone inside her pocket, makes sure her keys are placed inside, and grabs the doorknob to her front door.

“Seungwan.”

As if she hasn’t already reached her quota of near-death experiences today, Wendy’s heart skyrockets to a painful degree, her hands going clammy and slipping from the doorknob while her entire body goes cold and numb.

Of course. _Of course_ it had to end up like this.

When Wendy thinks this exact moment through several times again later on, she realizes she had been so in over her head that she forgot about the most basic telltales of a disaster the moment she walked inside her condominium. The unlocked door, the empty glass on the kitchen counter. The fact that she has two guestrooms she never checks because there is no need to.

She turns around despite her better judgment anyways, almost a second nature for her to turn around whenever she hears that voice—to hither whenever she is called.

Irene is standing right in front of her, face unreadable and eyes even more masked behind the light against her glasses. Wendy doesn’t know what to make of this situation when she can’t assess whatever Irene’s emotions are as of the moment. She knows _she_ is close to fainting though; wonders how on Earth she still managed to stay on both feet when Irene is looking at her so intensely.

Irene then lifts a hand from behind her, slow and torturous in Wendy’s perspective, and places it in front of her vertical plane.

“Ah…”

Wendy doesn’t know what she is feeling when the word escapes her lips. Her eyes have fallen on none other than a shiny speckle carefully grasped between two fingers, and it is still not registering in her brain amidst the initial shock and panic that Irene is definitely holding the engagement ring she had bought for her.

The engagement ring she had hidden so hard and so carefully.

The engagement ring she thought she lost.

So, maybe she can forgive herself that time. She wasn’t in the right headspace to think of anything coherent anyways. Maybe she can forgive herself that time when the first things that come out of her mouth in that awkward situation are, “Ah… you found it.”

“Ah… you found it,” and Irene is staring at her, brows furrowed with her head cocked to the side.

“I honestly thought I was robbed for a minute there. I was ready to call the cops,” and Irene blinks. Blankly. A couple of times. For good measure.

And then she _laughs_.

She laughs, heartily and wetly, and Wendy is sort of concerned. She wants to go over Irene’s side and hold her, tell her she’s sorry for the misunderstanding they had earlier, and explain about the ring. She needs to explain about the ring.

Irene found the ring. There is no perfect proposal now. It has been ruined.

“Joohyun, I can explain,” she tries anyways, taking slow steps towards the other girl who is now looking at the ring in her fingers again. “If you want me to… I can explain.”

“… Is this mine?” Irene looks at her this time when she stops right in front of her, eyes clearer now up close. They are pinkish on the edges, a thin film of mist covering them behind her glasses.

Wendy nods to the query, unsurely at first but then more certain afterwards.

“Yes. I was going to give it to you, but if you let me explain—”

“Then there is no need for you to explain.”

“What—no, no, Joohyun, I—”

“Is this what I think it is?”

Wendy’s face flushes, blood rushing to her cheeks now that she is confronted with the truth all of a sudden. The way Irene is looking at her expectantly, like pressing her for only one answer, is putting her completely on the spot.

“W-What do you think it is?”

Irene raises an eyebrow. “Is this what I think it is, Seungwan?” she repeats herself.

Wendy gulps down the lard that has accumulated in her throat, palms starting to sweat. Her palms don’t even sweat!

“Y-Yes. Yes, Joohyun. That’s—”

“An engagement ring.”

Wendy sucks in a shaky breath. “An engagement ring,” she confirms.

Silence looms over them deafeningly at that moment, and Wendy shifts, unable to focus longer on that growing discomfort in the atmosphere. Irene is supposed to say something. _She_ is supposed to say something.

“Listen, Joohyun. I was definitely not planning to propose anytime soon—”

“You weren’t?” Well, that sounded wrong.

“NO! I mean, not now like… I wanted to propose to you at a different time. I bought the ring already but I couldn’t figure out what to do with it. I asked Seulgi, and Joy, I even got Yerim to help me!” She had the time to laugh at that bit. “I wanted to propose at the perfect time, the perfect place, the perfect moment. I had it all planned out. It was going to be something marvelous, something grand.” 

She is rambling now, Wendy knows it. She has started pacing in the room during her monologue.

“... But we had a misunderstanding today. I panicked. I started doubting this entire thing. Did you know I was doubting myself when I went to buy that ring? I felt like you should have been there with me, like I should have talked to you first. God! I don’t even know if you want to be proposed to and I just went on and bought the ring! I’m so sorry—”

“You think I don’t want to be proposed to?”

“I don’t know!” She threads her hands through her hair in frustration. “I was just thinking about myself the entire time, I hadn’t even considered your feelings and I—”

“Seungwan.”

“—had to go out and do the most impulsive things and put myself in these situations—”

“Seungwan.”

“—now you have to suffer the consequences of my actions, and God, I am such an unlucky person I don’t know why you would want to be married to _me_ —”

“ _Seungwan_.”

Wendy stops to the tone Irene has adopted now, unaware that she had totally left the girl by herself on the same spot she stood to hover around the living room.

She turns then to find Irene next to her, holding the ring out in a fashion she knows all-too well. Down on one knee, ring in hand, and looking at her from where she knelt.

The gears in Wendy’s head have gone rusty and clanked against each other in resistance. What is happening?

“What are you… Joohyun, get up.” She prompts the other girl up, wrapping a hand around her arm to try and pull her up but Irene stands her ground… or kneels it. “Joohyun,” Wendy pleads, hand still around her arm. “Get up, please.”

“I am _not_ going to get up right now and endure your tireless rambling again, Seungwan,” Irene says firmly, shaking her arm away from her grasp and regaining her composure, still on one knee. “… You really think I don’t want to get married to you?” she asks softly, quite in disbelief.

Wendy’s heart stills, itchy and starts swelling in one chamber. Irene is looking at her with a seriousness she has never seen before—the clarity in her eyes even with glasses is almost palpable.

“I… I don’t know…” Wendy starts fiddling with her fingers. “Marriage is… a pretty big commitment, and I wouldn’t want to force it on you.”

Irene is silent then, just staring at her from where she kneels. Wendy watches as her lips turn into a slow smile, starting from one edge of her lips and then turning into an amused grin as she chuckles with a shake of her head.

“Seriously, what am I going to do with you, Son Seungwan…” she mutters good-heartedly, more to herself but Wendy hears the little notes of affection that have played over her words. They tug at her heartstrings delicately, and the swelling of her heart has crept up to the second chamber.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

“Huh?” Wendy tilts her head questioningly to the side. “Of course, I know that. You know I love you, too.”

“Then will you marry me?”

Wendy honestly didn’t know what she expected out of her “perfect proposal”. It was everything she hadn’t planned it out to be. Chaotic, messy, unorganized. Irene is the one on bended knee and holding the ring out from its box. Irene is the one asking her the words she had rehearsed over and over again and envisioned to ask under bright stars in the night sky.

But dear God, it was so perfect. Wendy’s heart bubbles and swells with an indecipherable feeling the moment she hears the words—clear and full in the empty house with bustling traffic outside. Love has filled every chamber of her heart where blood should have been.

Her eyes prickle with tears when the weight of the words starts to sink in and Irene is still looking at her with sincerity in her own and – oh, God, she really wants to marry me.

She really, _really_ wants to marry me.

Wendy doesn’t know if she had given Irene a definite answer to the question. She just remembers pulling her up from the floor with needy arms and fingers, overwhelmed, _desperate_. Their lips find each other in a flash; almost immediately like the last two pieces in a puzzle.

It was messy, chaotic, and unorganized. Their teeth bumped, their lips crashed, their mouths slippery. Uncoordinated—when one opened, the other closed.

But God, it was _perfectly_ imperfect.

Wendy stares silently, the diamond ring in her hand shining brightly under the luminescence of the moonlight outside the window. A couple hours have passed since they made love—since the _proposal_ , and to be honest, she is tired out. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. Their passion is just unmatched.

She rolls over to the view of her lover—her _fiancée_ next to her on the disorderly bed, and watches with a smile as the woman stares back at her with her own.

It was a messy sex, for the lack of better word.

But Irene laughs, joyous and so, so genuine, and snuggles her face into Wendy’s sweat-ridden neck when she finds her.

“Do you think this passes as a consummation of marriage? Even though we haven’t gotten married yet,” she asks against the flesh, and it takes Wendy a while, but when it does they just start giggling like little girls at the fact. Happy. Just purely _happy_.

“A consummation of our engagement. We’ll make that a thing.”

“Our thing.”

“Our thing, my love.” Wendy brushes away a few wet strands sticking to Irene’s forehead, combing the hair back with her fingers. She then cups Irene’s face with a hand, pulls her close to press a gentle kiss against her lips.

“I love you,” she whispers, heart full and swelling with so much affection for the other. She feels like she is going to cry again. She has waited for this for so long.

“I love you.” Irene kisses back, equally as passionate and _real_. 

Wendy feels the kiss deepening again, her fiancée’s leg flinging over her pelvis as she pulls herself on top. She smiles knowingly at the brewing situation.

“Round three before dinner?” Irene asks mischievously on top of her, peppering kisses along the underside of Wendy’s jaw.

Wendy chuckles. “You don’t get tired, do you?”

“No, you’re just so sexy.”

A laugh escapes Wendy’s lips as Irene finds them again, smiling against her mouth. “I need to rest if we’re getting dinner, baby. We’ll do round three later.”

“You’re just going to pass out after dinner!”

“We’ll have time.”

“Hmph.”

Wendy grins then, cups Irene’s face with both of her hands, and kisses her as passionately as she can muster with her remaining strength. Her fiancée’s mewl against her mouth is glorious, paints her cheeks and ears red, and she kisses her again for good measure to capture it.

“Don’t you worry, baby. We have all the time in the world.”

-

“Wannie? How are things? Did you call the cops and find out whoever broke into your house?”

“Things are fine, Seul. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“What about the person who broke into your house? Were you able to track them?”

“Well… about that…”

“Well?”

“I’m engaged to her now.”

“You’re engaged to her—”

“…”

“—YOU’RE ENGAGED TO HER NOW?!”

-

_End_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on this prompt “A has been planning to propose for a while, they've bought the ring and everything. One day, they somehow lose the ring only for B to unexpectedly find it. Bonus: B questions a flustered A about the ring. Bonus 2: B uses the ring to propose instead.”
> 
> I originally planned this to be short and sweet (~5k) but rv and wenrene are just so fun to write especially when it’s just them being messy and chaotic! I swear the whole thing with wenjoy in the diner could have a backstory of its own but for a oneshot this is enough. Completely loved writing this and I hope y’all enjoyed it too!!
> 
> This is my first official work after like 3 years of writer's block, and comments would be appreciated! Dropping my twitter acc here just in case any of you guys wanna chat! (I have socmed AUs I completely havent abandoned): @revelsoda :)
> 
> Also, #getwellsoonwendy ♡


End file.
